


Into the Thicket

by Sleepy_Grandma_Phyllis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apprentice - Freeform, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Familiars, Femdom, Feminist Themes, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Light Dom/sub, Magic, Mistress, No Lesbians Die, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Plague, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sorceress, Sorceress and apprentice, Sorceresses, Steampunk, Strong Female Characters, Victorian, idk - Freeform, magick, maybe?? - Freeform, unironically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_Grandma_Phyllis/pseuds/Sleepy_Grandma_Phyllis
Summary: Magick is fading from the world. When an ancient evil awakens to threaten mankind once more, all that stands between the unassuming city of Stoneport and certain annihilation is a strange, mysterious Sorceress and her devoted Apprentice.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Other(s), Original Female Character & Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a very short, very gay original story revolving around two queer women and the magick that brought them together. Angst, sex, plot twists, and a cat. Hope you enjoy!

The Sorceress’ apprentice stood apprehensively before the closed, ornate doors leading to her Mistress’ study. She picked anxiously at the ruffles of the blouse that spilled over her black corset vest, listening carefully to the cacophony of muffled yelling emanating from within. A nervous sweat broke out at her brow, dampening the unruly brunette hair she haphazardly tamed with a silver brooch.

She could easily identify the harsh, commanding tone of her Mistress, causing the delicate lighting fixtures outside of the study to rattle against the timeless emerald wallpaper with each rebuttal. However, the second voice, a whining masculine squawk, was much less familiar. She hadn’t anticipated visitors today, and judging by the storm brewing on the other side of the quivering closed doors, neither did the Sorceress. 

The woman’s heart raced in her chest. She was at a complete loss, although it came time to report the findings of her most recent studies to her Mistress, she was apprehensive to interrupt the war waging on before her.

_What am I to do?_

She felt a gentle rustle against the leg of her pinstripe trousers, and looked down to find Alistair, the manor’s mischievous black cat, walking figure eights around her feet. He gave a few small breathy mewls as he looked at her with his yellow, knowing eyes. 

“Oh hush,” The apprentice quietly scolded her mouthy feline friend, “You’ll give me away.” 

She cursed the words the moment they fell from her lips, as it was nary a second after, she heard her own name bellowed as a command from the other side of the door. Whether it was her own whisper, her animal companion, or simply her own predictable nature, her Mistress knew she was trembling just outside the study. Unsurprising. She thought for just a moment, if she remained still and silent, the Sorceress would overlook her presence.

“Willow, do not make me repeat myself!” 

With a heavy sigh and an adjustment of her shoulders, the apprentice pressed open the polished wooden doors and stepped into the battlefield. She hugged her thick, leather journal to her chest as she observed the scene.

The room was hot; ribbons of nicotine burned Willow’s nostrils as they slithered their way out of the dark study on her entrance. She registered the two opposing forces squabbling from either sides of the room. Although she had not recognized his voice, Willow immediately knew the man by his face. From the newspapers and the liners of her Mistress’ ashtrays all the same, Klaus Cummings, the Governor of Stoneport. The nobleman’s normally handsome face was puffy and disgruntled; red, as if he were on the verge of a meltdown. His bottom lip was ever so slightly trembling, and his large hands were stuffed uncomfortably into the ornate vest that hugged his stout frame.

Across from him, on the raised platform that housed an array of overcrowded bookcases and desks, was the daunting figure of the Sorceress. Contrary to her tone just moments before, she appeared collected and uncompromised. She sat with impeccable posture upon a plush parlor sofa in a snug, black, Victorian gown embellished with lace accents. She peered at her adversary from behind the thin lenses of her glasses, a long cigarette held delicately in her gloved hand, menacingly sophisticated as ever. 

“Yes, Madam Umbra?” Willow spoke dutifully, if softly. There was a tense static in the air as a moment of silence followed her address. Willow could feel the magickal aura resonating from the Sorceress’ being like pins and needles on her skin. Alistair, unbothered, cut through the room and pounced up upon the desk nearest his owner. The feline looked at the Governor with lazy, unimpressed eyes before nonchalantly licking at his paw. 

“Willow, be a dear and show Mr. Cummings out. He has well overstayed his welcome.”

“I will not be cast out like some sort of vermin!” The Governor puffed with a slight stomp of his foot. Willow blinked in disbelief at the childish display. This wasn’t the first time she witnessed Madam Umbra reduce a grown man to a groveling mess, but the Governor himself?  
“Do these mean anything to you?” The distraught man flapped a handful of papers at the Sorceress who only acknowledged him with an unimpressed frown. 

“I have heard what you have to say, and I refuse to be disrespected in my own home.” The sorceress spoke smoothly, taking a long drag from her cigarette. “Willow, escort him out.” 

“As you wish, Madam.” Willow acknowledged her Mistress’ command, taking a step towards the clamorous gentleman.

“Edith, you’re being selfish. Think of the people.”

Willow froze at the seemingly harmless plea and looked in disbelief to the Sorceress, she had never heard her Mistress’ first name used so casually in conversation. Not a single time, from a single soul in the entire time she spent in her company.  
Madam Umbra lifted herself slowly from her seat, an intense fury burning in the emerald pools of her eyes. 

“You know _nothing_ of the sacrifices I have made for your people, and you will not come into my domain with unreasonable demands on their alleged behalf. Should you truly be so noble and selfless, what then? Should I make a martyr of you?” She dismissed him with the wave of her hand. “Willow, get this slow-witted pig out of my sight.”

“You will not ignore the people!” The Governor bellowed, louder than anything before, once again flailing the fistful of papers in his hand. Even Alistair seemed taken aback by his outburst.

With nothing more than the flick of her wrist, Madam Umbra set the papers in the Governor’s hand to flames, reducing them to ashes in an instant. 

“I have resided here in this Manor years before you were born, and I will continue to do so long after you have rotten away. How soon that occurs depends entirely on how much more you decide to test me.” The Sorceress hissed with a ferocity unknown to Willow, who found herself shaking in her boots.

“Witch!” The Governor screeched in terror, grasping his singed hand, “Witch!” he turned his anger towards Willow in a desperate moment. “And what of you, girl? You stand beside this evil wench? Despite her flippant disregard for the innocent people of Stoneport!? And her abuse of their Governor!?” 

Willow swallowed the stone that had formed in her throat, softly nodded, and hesitantly gestured to the open door leading from the study, she was never particularly good at confrontation. Her small gesture was clearly taken in offense by a man so far aside himself. 

“You’ll burn with her you spineless little bitc-” 

“That’s quite enough of that, Klaus.” Madam Umbra didn’t hesitate to interrupt the needless insult. She lifted her slender gloved finger towards him, exhaling a stream of cigarette smoke as she did. The Governor fell entirely silent as his lips closed shut. “This is not Stoneport, and your so called authority means little here. Should you speak unkindly to any charge of mine, you will speak no more; not in this house.” 

Madam Umbra turned her focus to her visibly uncomfortable apprentice. Wordlessly, she gestured for Willow to bring her journal, paying the Governor no mind as he frantically came to terms with his newfound inability to speak. Willow obediently came to the side of her Mistress and timidly presented her notebook.

“You may take your leave,” She paged through the journal stopping briefly to absently dismiss Mr. Cummings with an uninterested wave, “Alistair, make sure the fine Governor of Stoneport doesn’t lose his way.” In immediate response, her feline companion nodded before transforming into a large, ambiguous, humanoid shadow before their eyes. Alistair stood now, an intimidating supernatural force at least an entire foot taller than the Governor, with fierce golden eyes. 

The Governor knew he was well outmatched, the flame of his rage extinguished with the fear and discomfort of witnessing Alistair’s unsettling new form. With frightened eyes, he lifted his hands in defeat and quickly removed himself from the room as the dark familiar dutifully followed, the door closing on its own behind them. 

“Very good,” the Sorceress snapped the journal closed and looked to Willow with a pleasant, crooked smile. “As always, give me a few hours to look this over, and we can discuss your findings this evening over tea.”

Willow stared at her, dumfounded, earning an amused chuckle from the older woman. 

“Excuse me, Madam, but what in the world was that all about!?”  
“Hm?” The Sorceress played coy as she redirected herself to a crystal bottle of aged spirits on a bookshelf nearby, she shook her head as she poured a more than generous portion of the amber liquid out into a short highball glass. “Just a minor infraction with Stoneport, nothing new.”

Willow cleared her throat with discomfort, turning her head towards the small heap of ashes on the floor where the Governor once stood, and looked back to her Mistress for an explanation. Finishing her drink, Madam Umbra didn’t hesitate to pour herself a liberal second helping before acknowledging her apprentice’s quizzical stare.

“Evidently, the residents of Stoneport are requesting I vacate the premises. I suppose my unorthodox use of Magicks have caused some controversy with the people and their church.” She sighed heavily as she reclaimed her seat at the parlor sofa once more. “Evidently, the Governor was hoping to persuade me to depart before getting the church involved.”

“That’s ludicrous, you’re the only thing standing between Stoneport and the Thicket. Why would they want you gone?” Willow knew things had become more tense in recent years. Magick was fading, the numbers of those who could wield it were dwindling, and those who could were forced to adhere to rigid legal regulations. Madam Edith Umbra was one of the very few powerful Sorceress’ left in these lands, and she lived on free land, outside of government restriction.

“Times change, people forget and begin to take things for granted.” The Sorceress spoke so plainly, Willow didn’t know whether to feel concerned or reassured. “It’s been too long since Stoneport felt the wrath of the Thicket, they’re starting to believe it’s a myth.”

Willow exhaled and sat beside Madam Umbra, eyes focused on the intricate patterns on the carpet before her. What would this mean for the Manor? For her studies? For… her place with Madam Umbra? Her heart began to race as the Governor’s last threat echoed in her mind.

_You’ll burn with her._

Overcome with fear, Willow tried her best to not entertain the thought of what could tangibly follow such a harsh threat. 

“Do you think the church will really come for us? The people? Do you think-” 

“Willow.” The Sorceress’ voice was commanding, but affectionate. Willow stilled herself as best as she could, fighting back tears of uncertainty. She had left behind an entire other life to come study under Madam Umbra, she had given up so much, would all of that have been in vain?

“Do you really think I’ll allow a few Holy Knights to storm up to my front door and scare me out of my life’s legacy?” Her Mistress’ words, while welcome, did little to still the electric anxiety fraying Willow’s nerves. Although she knew the quip was meant in jest, it stung Willow nonetheless; Madam Umbra had long forgotten the turbulent, emotional, impermanence that came with being a human mortal and it often showed in her dismissal of rather serious matters.  
The Sorceress noticed the discomfort she caused, and her amused smirk fell to a more solemn expression. 

Willow’s eyes were still cast to the ground as she processed the chaos in her mind. She felt the threat of an oncoming panic when a firm yet tender hand claimed her chin and redirected her attention, stilling her thoughts. 

“ _Willow…_ ” Her Mistress spoke her name with a stern sweetness, she was so close, her breath softly rolling across Willow’s lips. Goosebumps surfaced across her body, but the apprentice couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. The anxiety she felt had been replaced with a low, throbbing warmth in the pit of her stomach. 

“Look at me when I speak to you, Girl.” Madam Umbra’s voice took a slow, firm tone. Willow hated the effect her Mistress had on her, or at least she told herself she did. She slowly, obediently drew her strength together and opened her eyes. Madam Umbra’s gaze burned directly into Willow’s core, peering into the deepest reaches of her vulnerability. The apprentice relinquished her worries, completely captivated as a gloved thumb trailed across the line of her jaw. 

“I will not allow any harm to befall you, _so long as you are mine._ ”


	2. Confession

The warm amber glow of the setting sun washed over the proud Victorian Manor, lighting up the tall iron gates surrounding the estate with a brilliant shine, and painting the sleepy clouds above in cool lavender and sweet pumpkin. Willow hummed pleasantly to no one in particular as she readied a warm pot of fragrant tea. Inspired by the plush ocean of gold and crimson trees that surrounded the isolated chateau, the apprentice thoughtfully prepared an autumn blend of cinnamon and figs she had dried from the season’s last harvest. She had quite an eye for crafting unique and inviting teas; a skill her Mistress greatly delighted in. Willow had a natural prowess over botanicals and alchemy, and that craftsmanship shone in each cup of tea the women shared over pleasant academic conversations. 

She collected a small tin of sweetened biscuits and placed them snug on the wooden serving tray before setting off for the study. It was ritualistic for her, three times a week, the unlikely pair met to discuss all manners of Magicks over a cozy pot of tea. While she had initially been intimidated by the thought of speaking so candidly of arcane studies with the Sorceress of local legend, she learned over her apprenticeship that Madam Umbra was nothing like the Old Wives’ Tales that saturated her childhood. Stories of a fearsome, child-eating hag that knew only bloodlust and hatred for human mortals. The specifics of her grotesque appearance and malevolent abilities varied wildly, inconsistent tales of caution to keep the children far away from the real dangers of the Thicket. 

Willow chuckled to herself, remembering the exaggerated stories and how distant and unreasonable they seemed to her now. In actuality, Madam Umbra was a stern and demanding mentor, but she was also supportive and encouraging. She was a challenging instructor with high expectations for her apprentice, but Willow felt she was realizing her potential in a way she wouldn’t be able to anywhere else. More than that, the Sorceress made her feel safe, and welcome. 

_Wanted._

That was so much more than Willow could say for the family she left behind. Absent and unfeeling, her parents were more interested in concealing and repressing the rare magickal capabilities of their strange daughter, much less celebrating and encouraging them.

Willow cleared her throat and relinquished her thoughts, not wanting to sacrifice an ounce more of her sorrow or energy to the people that so comfortably caused her anguish. The study was dark and quiet, no Sorceress to be found. An amused smirk came across Willow’s lips, this wasn’t the first time Madam Umbra had forgotten.

Madam Umbra was many impressive things, a renowned sorceress who struck fear into the hearts of men and monsters alike, a master of the dark arts and a true paragon of ancient magicks - but Willow had come to know who she was at her core. Whether or not the ethereal, timeless Mistress of the Manor openly acknowledged it, her apprentice had come to see who she truly was - a clumsy, chaotic mess dressed up in outdated sophistication. Hell, had it not been for the dedicated efforts of her doting familiar, this Manor would have been in shambles decades ago. 

Speaking of Alistair, where was he? Willow curiously peeked her head out of the door opposite of the study and peered down the pristine corridor that led to the grand master bedroom. The door was ajar, casting the dim flicker of firelight to dance invitingly across the cold hardwood floors. She barely registered the form of the black cat stretching out luxuriously on the window nook at the far end of the hall, now darkened by the shroud of evening. He yawned and looked to her with sleepy eyes before nuzzling himself into the cushions surrounding him. Willow gave him a pleasant smile that he seemed to return in his lazy eyes as he watched the apprentice close in on the open door. 

There, hunched over a mess of open texts and scrolls, scribbling something down with great fervor, was the Sorceress. Her face was illuminated by the soft candlelight of her lantern, producing a halo around the fine creases that decorated her mature face. She was still dressed in her impossibly cumbersome gown, unruly tufts of her greying hair had fallen from her neat updo, suggesting the concentrated woman had been at this for some time. She didn’t register her Apprentice’s entrance, or at least didn’t acknowledge her, and for just a moment Willow was grateful - taking the time to appreciate the rare sight of Madam Umbra undisturbed in her work. 

She was a beautiful woman, Madam Umbra, although perhaps not in a conventional sense. She hadn’t changed since Willow first laid eyes on her, all those years ago. The apprentice fondly remembered the specific captivation that overcame her when she witnessed the strange, powerful force of the Sorceress for the first time. She was just a child then. Willow had, like countless other times, run away from home - seeking solace in the wilderness that sprawled around Stoneport. All those years ago, she had been exploring, and accidentally stumbled upon an unexpected scene of violence.

Concealing herself amidst the thick undergrowth of the forest, Willow looked on as a tall, ferocious woman wielded her supernatural capabilities mercilessly; cutting down a savage, malformed revenant that manifested in the void of the Thicket and stalked towards an unsuspecting farming village. She wasn’t meant to witness such a vulgar sight, but Willow saw beauty in discovering the woman’s divine control over Magick. The little girl knew at that moment, no amount of slander or scary stories would deter her from knowing who this powerful Sorceress was. Her cold, lonely world had become illuminated with new hope

A decade and some change later, and Willow found herself overwhelmed with admiration for that same woman, now hunched over a pile of papers with unkempt hair and puffy, tired eyes. Willow collected herself and softly cleared her throat. Madam Umbra’s striking green eyes lifted towards the woman, creasing up into a welcoming smile. The warmth in the Sorceress’ face was quickly overtaken with momentary confusion as she shot a look from her papers and across to the wide bay windows that revealed the darkened sky beyond. Only then did it dawn on her how consumed she was in her feverish scribbling. 

“I am terribly sorry,” Madam Umbra chuckled to herself as she tucked her stray curls behind her ear and hurriedly cleared a stack of papers off of a chair beside her desk. “Come, come, sit.” The Sorceress mused to herself as she shuffled through the academic chaos of her desk to find the thick leather journal Willow had presented her hours prior.

“If now isn’t a good time, Mistress, I can always come back tomorrow-”

“No, no, now is perfectly fine.” She gave a quirky smirk as she accepted the serving tray from her companion. “Besides, tomorrow isn’t promised, is it?”

Willow furrowed her brow at the Sorceress as she watched her pour the aromatic tea into the two small, porcelain cups. It was entirely characteristic for her Mistress to ramble off little proverbs, but given this morning’s bizarre happenings this time felt particularly cryptic. 

“May I ask you something, Madam Umbra?” Willow felt the warm cup of tea in her hands and traced her thumbs around the sides of its delicate rim.

“Of course.”

“Those papers, Governor Cummings was threatening you with… what were they?” She searched Madam Umbra’s face for any telling information, but the Sorceress was simply impossible to read. The mature woman finished sipping her tea and exhaled heavily, looking to her apprentice with honest eyes.

“It was a... petition.” She leaned back in her seat and shrugged her shoulders. “It would appear more people want me out of this region than I had originally believed.” 

Willow felt a tinge of poisonous anger in her stomach, anger towards the injustice of their situation, anger towards her parents and every other spineless citizen that feared and misunderstood Magick. Angry with the realization she was one mortal against how many names had thoughtlessly signed those very pages the Governor had waved around just hours before.

“Willow, let me make something clear.” There was a sober dedication in her Mistress’ eyes, Willow found herself locked in her gaze. “You are under no obligation to stay here. It has been my privilege to mentor you, but I would be more than happy to provide you with whatever it is you need to begin a safe, happy life far from here.” 

“Madam Umbra…” Willow spoke breathlessly. She meant it, didn’t she? She swallowed hard, contemplating the gravity of their situation. This all felt surreal. In all their time together, the two had never discussed... _after._ Having locked herself in her room all day, it would appear the Sorceress had plenty of time to reassess their situation. This was after all, a stark contrast to the confident anger she displayed earlier.

“You are my apprentice second, you are your own woman first and foremost.” Willow listened, wishing nothing more than for Madam Umbra to break her cold seriousness with her classical nonchalance, but no moment of dry sarcasm or witty remark came to relieve her.  
“Your safety is paramount. I have connections that would grant you safe passage to any number of cities, if that is what you want.”

“No, that’s not what I want. Not at all.” Willow looked to Madam Umbra with dedicated eyes, maintaining a brave face save for the slight quiver of her lips that nearly gave her away.

The Sorceress did not immediately respond, but set her teacup aside in favor of her decorative silver cigarette case, removing a long, thin cigarette for herself. She tapped the dainty cylinder a few times against the case before bringing it to her lips and igniting it with subtle magick upon inhalation. Feeling the bitter vapors slowly expand in her chest, Umbra’s gaze held Willow hostage, knowing and uncompromising eyes keeping the woman entranced in a stormy ocean of emerald. Willow felt her heart in her throat, a million thoughts waged war in her mind, battling desperately for the chance to escape from her lips and be released into the world outside, but no words came.

“And what is it that you want, Willow?” 

A question, Willow felt, the Sorceress already knew the answer to. To believe their connection to one another only extended as far as that of a mentor and apprentice was foolish. They could choose to believe their engagements weren’t a slow, agonizing dance around a truth neither of them acknowledged, but that would be believing in a blatant lie. They could continue to pretend it wasn’t a deep, visceral connection that kept Willow tied to the Sorceress long after any other apprentice before her, but that blissful ignorance could only be sustained by the security of a comfortable future; something they no longer had.

Willow’s breath caught in her throat, if there would ever come a time to confess, it was now. What started as a whimsical infatuation for her Mistress all those years ago had grown into an infallible devotion, then erupted into a feverish desire that burned in Willow’s bones and left her aching long in the lonely hours of the night. She could feel her pulse in her temples, pressuring her to make her decision.

Throwing caution to the wind and allowing a courageous boldness to overcome her, Willow replied with no more than a single, powerful word.

“ _You._ ”

An unbearable weight had been lifted from the apprentice as the small, simple word fell from her lips, filling the cavity of her chest with butterflies. It didn’t occur to her just how the Sorceress might react, and only in the silence that followed was her incredible high tinged with a faint hue of anxiety.

Willow watched Madam Umbra’s face with dreamy eyes, her heart skipping a beat when a pleased, beautiful smile fell across her Mistress’ lips. The Sorceress slowly leaned in, her voice smooth and sultry, honey to Willow’s eager, needy ears. Madam Umbra’s breath cascaded across Willow’s starving skin as she whispered her response.

“And how is it that you want me?”


	3. Waking Up

_And how is it that you want me?_

Upon hearing those words, Willow felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She must have dreamt of this situation a thousand times, but now that it was playing out before her, she couldn’t think of what to say. Weak with lust and desperation, Willow moved slowly, sinking to her knees before her Mistress. Her skin was hot, aching with anticipation. What started as a concentrated heat, tense and contained to her core, had erupted and expanded, encompassing every inch of her body. It was a seething flame yearning, _begging_ to be stimulated.

“ _Whatever_ you would give me.” the words fell from Willow’s lips, quiet yet thick with desire. Earning a smirk from the Mistress who was seated before her, lording over her. The fire in Madam Umbra’s gaze was unmistakable. Desire, primal hunger. She fed off of the desperation in her Apprentice’s pleading eyes.

She leaned forward to claim Willow’s chin with her gloved hand, running her thumb over her bottom lip. The Mistress grinned as the sound of a shuddering whimper escaped Willow’s throat, an incredibly tempting reaction to a rather insignificant touch. Watching Willow’s body writhe and tremble with neediness caused the Mistress to swell with mischievous pride, a devilish satisfaction. Willow was unashamed; perhaps when all was said and done she would look back at her desperate, begging state and feel a flash of embarrassment... but perhaps not.

“You poor, _poor_ thing.” Umbra’s words were decadent honey to Willow’s ears, firm and commanding, “You _need it,_ don’t you?”

“Oh gods… _yes._ ” Willow’s voice was weak and strained, clear evidence that the young woman could take little more; but Madam Umbra had no desire to be so generous and merciful. And as much as she cursed her for it, it was something Willow found incredibly irresistible. 

“Yes, _what?_ ” Umbra’s eyes narrowed as she firmly scolded her Apprentice.

“Yes, _Mistress._ ”

“ _Good girl._ ” 

Two simple words spoken so abruptly; two small, unassuming words that caused the heat between Willow’s thighs to surge and pulse. She couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her lips upon hearing those two delicious words of praise. She felt as though she was melting, she wanted nothing more than to hear those words again, and again, and _again_. 

“Lay back for me, won’t you?” Umbra instructed. Her posture was impeccable, completely unphased. Willow admired her composure; envied it. She obediently did as instructed - still on her knees she leaned back, placing her hands flatly against the hard wooden floors beneath her. Such a vulnerable, compromising position. Her Mistress licked her lips at the sight of Willow’s chest rising and falling with every staggering, strained breath.

“Good girl.” She said again, watching with pleasure as Willow bit her lip to prevent herself from making another scandalous sound. With a subtle, mischievous smirk, Umbra slowly lifted up the skirt of her tight fitting victorian gown, just a little; just enough. Her foot became visible, snug inside a stylish black ankle boot, and above it, her leg. Pale, soft skin beneath the tint of sheer, silky stockings. 

It was such a modest, insignificant display, but Willow was shaken at the sight. Tantalized by this new, undiscovered territory of her Mistress. She found, once more, her breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to race as slowly, _agonizingly_ slowly, Umbra slid her foot closer into the space where Willow’s thighs met. Umbra chuckled to herself, a soft, quiet, delicious sound, as she could feel the heat radiating from her apprentice. 

“Look at you; how you writhe and tremble beneath me… And I haven’t even touched you yet.” Umbra watched as a red blush took over her Apprentice’s face, beads of sweat forming at her brow, her chest rising and falling more erratically as she struggled, flustered, with her breath. 

“What are you waiting for, girl?” Umbra spoke as she lifted her foot, ever so gently, and just barely pressed it against Willow’s most sensitive parts before returning it to the floor once more. Upon the contact, Willow quickly shot a hand up to cover her mouth and stifle the moan Umbra elicited from her. 

“ _Relieve_ yourself.”

Willow looked up at Madam Umbra with equal parts confusion and curiosity… could she really mean? Willow began to sink her hips forward, but immediately stopped in hesitation. Surely she wouldn’t suggest something so flagrant and lewd…? Did she really want her to-

“Did I stutter?” Permission granted, under the guise of scolding, Umbra’s eyes were mysteriously kind.

“No, Mistress.” Willow whispered. Reassured, her body moved with more confidence. Her hips gravitated towards Umbra’s exposed shin, the insides of her thighs welcoming the newfound stimulation - as meager as it was. Umbra held her foot firmly, planted into the floor, contributing to the pressure against Willow’s most sensitive parts. Willow’s head fell back as she began to grind herself against Madam Umbra’s leg, whimpering as she did. 

Umbra’s lips curled into a grin, watching Willow experience such incredible pleasure from something so… _simple_. She couldn’t deny that the sensation, the heat, the faint wetness she could feel through the material of Willow’s trousers was nourishing a budding arousal in herself as well. And the sounds, the _sounds_ that came from Willow’s lips; Umbra relished in each abrupt gasp and repressed moan, each breathless whimper and shudder of her name. Her own breath quickened, excited by the vision of the woman before her pleasuring herself with nothing more than the pressure of her leg. 

“Yes, that’s it.” The Sorceress praised Willow, encouraging her on as the Apprentice’s body began to move with greater fervor. Willow’s back was arched now, her hands quaking in white-knuckled fists below her. Umbra leaned forward ever so slightly to claim a fistful of the ruffles that fell down from the throat of Willow’s blouse. She yanked them towards herself, anchoring Willow’s needy body firmly against her leg. Willow whined at the deepened, intensified friction.

“Such a good girl you are. Don’t hold back now.”

That final spoken praise was enough to send Willow over the edge. She cried out as her body tensed, thighs constricting tightly around Umbra’s shin. Her elbows gave out as she fell back onto the hardwood floor below her; waves of intense pleasure reducing her to a trembling puddle of a woman. 

Umbra observed her apprentice with wicked satisfaction. Fingers fell to trace the spot where Willow had relieved herself. The skin beneath those thin, lace stockings felt sensitive to the touch; raw from the friction and damp with Willow’s climax. Willow had begun to descend from the high of her orgasm, sighing as she returned to herself. She looked up to her Mistress with curious, needy eyes; content, for now, to remain laying on the ground.

Umbra bestowed a beautiful smile upon her before rising from her seat to step over Willow and make her way to the large, plush canopy bed beyond the fireplace. The commanding click of her heels emanating through the room with each intentional step. She looked over her shoulder to the young woman who remained in her place, entranced in a state of bliss.

“Well… What are you waiting for?” Madam Umbra raised her hands to begin unclasping the neat line of buttons that began on the back of her neck, “Come. Help me out of this.” 

Willow shot up quickly, moving with clumsy eagerness. Knees still weak, she staggered forward to catch herself on the desk before her. Umbra chuckled, shaking her head at the young woman’s brazen enthusiasm. With a deep, restorative breath Willow collected herself and made her way to the ethereal silhouette of her Mistress. Umbra’s sharp, emerald eyes glistened in the somber light of the fireplace. Those captivating eyes cut through Willow, reinvigorating the fire within her with little more than a glance. Nervous fingers grasped haphazardly at the buttons keeping Umbra tightly in place. Willow clearly had no idea what she was doing; this caused a bright duet of laughter to fill the room.

“It’s alright, no need to be nervous.” Umbra’s voice hushed into a tender, soothing tone. She gave the younger woman’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I’ll show you…” And she did; instructing her patiently and gently just as she always did. Slowly, the dress was peeled off of Umbra and floated to the ground in a poofy heap. She stood, in the center of it, clad only in her lace unmentionables. Her body was tall and lithe. Her skin kissed with all manner of scars and experience. Worn, tested by time and weathered by trials innumerable, and she was absolutely _stunning_. Willow felt as though at any moment she would fall to her knees again, if only to grovel at her Mistress' feet.   
“Madam Umbra…” a whisper, a prayer. “You are… so _beautiful._ ”

_Beautiful_. That... was a word she hadn’t heard attached to her name in ages. Edith Umbra, the terrifying and powerful Sorceress. She, the fearsome hag of old wives’ tales, whom the people of Stoneport regarded as a threat. She, who was forced into a life of misunderstood solitude. 

“Willow…” Umbra brought the wandering eyes of her apprentice to meet her elegant gaze, her hand rising to gently claim Willow’s chin. “Are you happy here, _truly?_ ” Willow chortled in response, by now wasn’t it blatantly obvious? Yet, the sincere, humorless concern in Umbra’s eyes reduced Willow’s playful, scoffing laughter to silence.

“Yes.” Willow spoke with conviction. “There is nowhere I would rather be, than here at your side.” She searched Umbra’s apprehensive expression. What had caused this? What had brought on the sudden vacancy in her usually brilliant eyes? 

_Stoneport. The petition._

No. Willow would not allow her mind to linger there; and wouldn’t allow for Umbra to stay in that place either. Not now, not tonight. With a newfound boldness, Willow claimed Umbra’s lips in a confident, yet clumsy kiss. The people of Stoneport posed no threat tonight, and Willow wouldn’t allow them to rob her of any more happiness they already had. She kissed Umbra again, a third time, a fourth, deeper each time. 

“Mistress…” Willow gasped into Umbra’s open mouth. Pulling her Mistress’ hands to her body, she begged to be freed from the confines of her own clothing. “Let me be _yours_ tonight.”

Willow’s boldness was rewarded with Umbra’s restored confidence; the Sorceress more than happy to oblige the younger woman in stripping her down to her skin. Imprinting possessive kisses across every inch, every exposed curve as she did. Willow welcomed every touch, every discovery of this uncharted territory.

Neither of the women where strangers to sex, but this... this was _different_. There was an electric aura in the air, a visceral connection that formed between the two; it wasn’t just their bodies. No, this was much deeper. The raw energy of the magick within each woman radiated outward, resonating with the other. Entwining together, complete harmonious synergy. It was _exhilarating_. 

Umbra’s hands fell to the back of Willow’s thighs, seamlessly lifting her off of the ground in one fluid motion. She walked her back to the bed, slowly, relishing in the feeling of Willow’s naked thighs around her waist. They kissed one another generously, tenderly.

Delicately, Umbra lowered Willow into the plush sheets of her bed. The Apprentice sighed, her eyes closing in bliss, savoring every sensation, every kiss, every stroke. Umbra’s careful, experienced lips traveled across her entire body, enjoying every inch of it as she made her journey south. Waves of goosebumps rose on Willow’s skin, spreading over her entire body, in the wake of these passionate kisses. It wasn’t long before the Sorceress found herself settled between Willow’s thighs. 

“Oh _Mistress…_ ” Willow gasped, arching her back up from the bed as she felt Umbra’s tongue spread across the lovely pink petals of her vulva. Her tongue, tender and attentive, caressed every inch of Willow’s most sacred parts. As she worshiped her Apprentice with her tongue, Umbra’s fingers reached up to generously explore the soft silk of Willow’s thighs and stomach, her waist and plump breasts. The younger woman cried out, trembling beneath this newfound pleasure, her body particularly sensitive in the presence of Umbra’s powerful magickal aura. 

“How does that feel?” Umbra’s voice was sultry and sweet, Willow shivered upon feeling her hot breath cascade across her thighs.

“Mistress…” Willow reached a shaking hand down to lose her fingers in the soft tangles of her lover’s hair, “It feels _incredible._ ”

With a grin, Umbra continued her veneration. Her tongue generously explored every sweet fold, every decadent depth that the Apprentice had to offer her. Willow’s uninhibited moans stirred a pleasure deep within the Sorceress. Umbra allowed one of her own hands to fall and slowly make its way between her own hungry thighs, where she tended to a fire of her own. She listened to Willow’s body carefully, paying attention to each reaction. She was getting _close_.

“Flip over for me.” Umbra instructed, rising up onto her knees, wiping the excess moisture from her smile. Willow complied, rolling onto her stomach, her bottom in the air. Umbra moved forward, kneeling between Willow's legs. She leaned herself over Willow’s body, mounting her. One arm reached beneath for a firm grasp around her apprentice’s waist, the other reached back to stroke Willow’s most sensitive parts from behind.

“How does _this_ feel?” Umbra purred into Willow’s ear as two nimble, skillful fingers circled the puckered entrance of her sensitive cunt. Willow grabbed fistfuls of the blankets below her as her hips reactively bucked back against the woman who held her so firmly. 

“Umbra, _please…_ ” Willow moaned, “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“How _lewd…_ ” Umbra teased, as she gently bit down on Willow’s shoulder, causing the younger woman to shiver beneath her. Willow scoffed at her Mistress, but the annoyed sound that escaped her lips quickly escalated to one of ecstasy. Umbra’s fingers were far more attentive and skilled than Willow had anticipated. The Sorceress groaned feeling the hot, tight walls of her lover’s cunt pucker around her fingers. She curled her digits inside of her, stroking the most sensitive parts deep within. 

Willow’s head had fallen, biting down on the pillows beneath her to muffle her moans. She could feel as Umbra’s other hand relinquished hold of her waist and moved down to stimulate her clitoris. It was so deliciously overwhelming, Willow could hardly take it much longer. Madam Umbra continued, unyielding, rubbing firm circles into the sensitive bud of Willow’s clitoris as the other hand fucked her with great passion. She leaned forward to plant a kiss between her Apprentice’s shaking shoulder blades. She could feel Willow’s body growing more tense with every repetition, hear the rise in Willow’s tone as she neared her orgasm. 

“Come for me, Willow.” Umbra commanded sternly; her Apprentice dutifully complied. With a dramatic gasp, Willow’s body became rigid in her hands. Her muscles tightening and convulsing, a desperate, rapturous moan filled the room as Willow cried out in her release. A riptide of pleasure consumed her body, leaving her a trembling, gasping mess beneath her lover. 

Umbra laid down beside her, propped up on one elbow. Her other hand ran through the unruly hair that hid Willow’s face and gently, lovingly rubbed circles into the bare skin of her neck. They shared in a serene moment of silence together, Willow’s hazey eyes half opened, still admiring her Mistress. With time, Willow’s breath began to relax and her rapid heartbeat slowed.

“What about you?” Willow’s gentle voice broke the silence, her fingers reaching out to stroke Umbra’s cheek. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m perfectly satisfied.” The Sorceress leaned in, planting a tender kiss to Willow’s forehead. She took her apprentice into her arms, holding her close. Willow felt so safe here, in this moment. She nuzzled into Umbra’s neck and listened to the soothing pulse of her Sorceress’ heartbeat. As much as she fought the ensnaring grasp of slumber, Willow was simply too exhausted to keep it at bay much longer. Beneath the gentle caress of Umbra’s soft hands Willow could feel herself fading into a blissful sleep.

“Madam Umbra…” She murmured so quietly, barely awake, “I… _I love you._ ”

* * *

Streams of pastel sunlight washed across the large bedroom as Willow slowly roused from her slumber. She awoke with a beautiful smile, mind fresh with vivid memories of last night. She inhaled deeply, hugging the blankets that smelled so strongly of the woman she adored. She sat up and stretched luxuriously, looking over to find she was alone. It was to be expected, Madam Umbra was, after all, quite an insufferable early bird. 

Sighing, Willow swung her feet over the side of the bed and planted them firmly on the ground. She found a fresh pair of clothes neatly folded, waiting for her at the foot of the bed. Touched by the sentiment, Willow dressed rather quickly, eager to see her lover once more. As she turned from the bed, she noticed something… _off_. The room was _impeccably_ clean. No piles of paper strewn about the desk, no scripts or tomes pouring out from the sides of well-loved bookshelves… The furniture remained yet everything was empty. _Vacant._

“Madam Umbra?” Willow called, answered only by the subtle echo that returned her words. “Alistair?”

Nothing.

She moved from corridor to corridor, glancing in each room as she did. Each space was the same as the bedroom, cold and empty; showing no signs of life. Willow fought off the creeping anxiety that poisoned her heart, there must be an explanation. Rationalizing, she wouldn’t let herself panic just yet. She was _certain_ , just beyond one more door, one more room over, She would find Umbra sipping tea in the morning light, Alistair curled in her lap or napping upon a windowsill. Umbra would look at her with kind, reassuring eyes and they would laugh together over the absurdity of her panic.

But each door only opened to more emptiness, more haunting silence. 

“Mistress, where are you?” Willow’s voice was quickly becoming more frantic, fear growing and expanding in her chest, clawing at her mind and straining her lungs. “Madam Umbra!” 

All of these years, she resided here as one of only three occupants. This strange Victorian manor had always been impossibly large but only now did she feel so incredibly alone. She cried out one final time, praying to hear anything more than her cruel, unfeeling echo. The emptiness mocked her, taunted her, and suddenly these vacant rooms and silent walls began to feel as though they were closing in around her. This place was no longer familiar to her.

She came to the entrance hall, well illuminated in the morning light. Like the others, this room was vacant, but the front door was ajar. A gentle autumn breeze whispered through the atmosphere to kiss her cheek and caused the dried leaves that allowed themselves in to dance for a moment. Willow registered a shape on the porch beyond, standing alone in the morning light. It was... her suitcase.

A modest thing, humble and worn. It was all she had in her possession when she sought out Umbra’s mentorship all those years ago. She hadn’t laid her eyes upon it since, in fact she had forgotten all about it; having become so comfortable with life at the Manor. When she stepped out onto the creaking wood of the porch that wrapped around the Manor, the front door closed behind her of its own accord. 

Willow fell to her knees to examine the antique, fingers finding their way to old, worn clasps laced with a hint of rust. She opened the suitcase, slowly, uncertain of what she would find. Clothing, mostly; her own, concealing an obscene amount of gold lovingly tucked away beneath. She found a small note pressed amongst her clothes. She lifted the thin, fluttering piece of paper to read the only words inscribed upon it. The words were written hastily, but the handwriting was unmistakable.

_“Forgive me.”_

Upon reading the words, the paper disintegrated to ash between her fingertips, floating away in the autumn breeze; and as the remnants of a fleeting apology drifted away from the young woman, so did her memories of life within this strange, foreign Manor. So suddenly, like grains of sand through her fingertips; as if by magick.

Uncertain as to why she found herself at the entrance of this foreign Manor, the young woman closed her suitcase and turned away. She looked back only once at the strange, Victorian homestead with a grimace on her face. Her mind unable to grasp at threads that were no longer there. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and continued about her way. 

Back to the only place she knew; to Stoneport.


	4. Homecoming

When the Thicket came for Stoneport, they weren’t ready.

They couldn’t have been.

Nothing could have prepared them for the eldritch horrors that came screaming, into the night. The Monsters that came crawling forth, unspeakable horrors, from the furthest, darkest depths of the cursed overgrowth surrounding Stoneport; devouring entire farming villages in the wake of their voracious hunger. And despite their advanced weaponry, despite their immediate military response, Stoneport didn’t stand a chance. It was a matter of days before hospitals were at full capacity, having to turn victims away to the cold, unfeeling cobblestone streets.

While the city’s finest medics could mend the wounds and broken bones of the more fortunate victims, they were powerless against the rise of an ancient, festering Magick that plagued their civilization. An old forgotten Magick of the darkest sort from which the Thicket was said to be birthed centuries ago. For lack of better understanding, the people of Stoneport had taken to calling it The Rot. 

An appropriate name for a slow, agonizing infection that would spread black, root-like veins throughout the victim’s entire body. As the infection progressed, growths would break through the skin; growths like that of the gnarled trees that filled the Thicket itself, consuming the flesh of the victim and leaving nothing but a hollowed out husk behind. 

It was only when Stoneport had begun to lose all faith that a young, strange woman rose to answer their prayers. As a Magick user, she had no _real_ loyalty to Stoneport, no reason to look with compassion upon the bigoted citizens of the city; yet... she did. With patience and gentleness, she was called to action and took to caring for the unfortunate souls seemingly doomed to succumb to The Rot. Although her open use of Magick was initially met with controversy, skepticism and suspicion, it proved to be the only effective treatment against The Rot. Laws and restrictions governing the use of Magick were reluctantly overlooked in favor of embracing the only hope they had. 

Quietly, those few inexperienced Magick users who had lived in secret, those who walked undetected among the ordinary citizens of Stoneport, sought her out. They were eager to learn, eager to help serve their city. In a manner of months, the unlikely band of Mages were able to establish a modest free clinic in the lower bowels of the city; they turned no one away. Slowly, the number of casualties began to fall, and with time, the City began to regain its strength; rekindle its hope. 

The survivors of The Rot, saved by her gentle healing, and the misfit apprentices that studied beneath her ways of powerful restorative Magick had taken to calling this stranger “The Good Doctor”. Although admittedly, she still very much preferred the simplicity of her own name.

_Willow._

* * *

Willow sat alone in her humble, organized office, enjoying a hot cup of afternoon tea. Her tired hazel eyes glanced over a crinkled newspaper detailing the latest coverage of the ongoing war. It had been five years since she had returned to Stoneport; five years since the war had started. It wasn’t long after the initial assault that a new General, with knowledge of the Thicket, had taken to leading the soldiers of the Holy Church, and only then did the situation on the front lines improve. 

Since then, while the city was _far_ from safe, Stoneport had come to enjoy a quiet, if uncomfortable, stalemate. While it certainly wasn’t ideal, anything was better than immediate annihilation. Willow’s clinic maintained a steady bustle, but long gone were the days of constant work, emergency response and persisting exhaustion. They had fallen into a sustainable routine.

Thanks to the generous donations of anonymous benefactors, the clinic had been relocated to a central, more accessible part of the city. It remained free to all citizens, whether their ailments were afflictions of war or every day life; it mattered not. All were welcome to the warm, bright clinic that stood just off the corner of the once bustling center plaza of the city. It was easily identified by the bright brick walls dressed with crawling ivy and the sweet herbal scents of tea and botanicals that welcomed passerbys.

Hers had become a well established clinic that provided the highest quality care in all of Stoneport, their equipment and resources rivaling even the greatest standing hospitals in the oldest parts of the city. Willow had every reason to feel proud, to feel accomplished of herself and the family of Magick users her efforts had brought together. She did, in her own humble way, but she simply could not shake a feeling of emptiness that took up residency in her heart. Something was missing. A vacancy she had felt each and every day of her life for the last five years. _What_ it was she was feeling, she simply could not say or describe. A yearning, an aching, for something she did not understand. 

She was a Sorceress in her own right now, fully matured in her Magick; ageless, experienced and extraordinarily educated… but _how_? She was certainly not a prodigy in her formative years Yet… when she reached back into the depths of her mind to remember anything of her life before the war she simply came up empty handed. How bizarre it was, to be unable to provide a satisfying answer when her fellow mages inquired about her experience with Magick. To look back in time to reflect upon her memories and feel a sense of… nothingness.

Even now, during the silence of her much needed break, Willow felt _fraudulent_. She sighed with discontent, perhaps one day, when this war ended, she would be free to pursue the truth of her past. Perhaps one day she could sit with her own thoughts without them turning to anxiety. Perhaps one day she could look in the mirror and see herself, not the impostor she felt she was. 

Just as she lifted the warm, porcelain cup to her lips for another sip of tea, a loud cacophony broke out beyond the door of her office. Willow didn’t hesitate to respond; leaving an unread newspaper fluttering away from her desk in the wake of her dramatic exit. She moved with great haste, tying her voluminous, unruly hair back as she made her way towards the chaos of clattering equipment and shrieks of fear. 

She entered the quaint waiting room nearest her office, leading to the reception area, only to find it a complete disaster. An array of chairs had been knocked over and several pieces of wall decor littered the once pristine hardwood floors. The shrieking came from two horrified patients huddled together in the corner opposite of her, while before them stood a mountain of a man armed defensively with a broomstick. The man was Nikolai, a fifty-four year old gentleman, a dear friend to Willow and the first of the Mages to seek her out five years ago. 

It was truly bizarre to see the usually stoic man, who stood well over six feet and was thick with muscles, so startled. His dark brown eyes were scanning the room for something, darting from one chair to another. 

“Over there! It’s over there!” one of the patients cowering behind Nikolai cried out dramatically, causing him to swat the broomstick in the general direction she suggested. His grip on the abused broomstick was firm, and in his underestimated strength, he snapped the arm off another unsuspecting chair. 

“Nikolai! What is going on here!?”

“A rat! Big big rat!” Nickolai bellowed with his heavy accent before smacking the broom down a second time, barely missing an unassuming oil lantern. A sudden movement from beneath another chair caused the two patients to loudly shriek in horror.

“Calm down!” Willow commanded severely. Before slowly crouching to peer beneath the chairs still standing under Nikolai’s thoughtless onslaught. Clearing his throat with embarrassment, the large man ran a hand through his backswept peppered hair before he lowered the broom and mirrored Willow’s less brash investigation. 

With its assailant pacified, the creature beneath the chairs darted its way into the open room, quickly closing in on Willow; the patients screamed once more for fear of their dear doctor - but it wasn’t a rat… it was a _cat_. A majestic black cat with sparkling eyes of gold. The cat recklessly jumped up into Willow’s arms meowing loudly as it did; it was hardly feral or violent. On the contrary, it began to purr loudly, smashing its furry head affectionately against Willow’s chin. As if it knew her...

“Oh, haha! It is only a pussy cat.” Nikolai let out a loud burst of laughter from his belly. The patients behind him were hardly amused, still tense in their state of panic. 

“How did you get in here?” Willow cooed to her newfound feline friend. 

“I was sweeping reception area-” Nickolai explained, “Leave door open to let dust out. Ran right in!” 

“You silly oaf.” Willow smiled pleasantly as she enjoyed the generous affection from the cat in her arms. “Nickolai, please take the patients to the secondary waiting area and then help me clean up.”

“Of course Doctor, I am sorry for this.” 

“It’s quite alright. These things happen.” She spoke reassuringly as Nikolai escorted the two patients away. She lowered the cat to the ground much to its dismay, “Albeit, _not very frequently…_ ” 

Willow gave the cat a puzzled look as it continued to mewl and rub itself against her legs with great enthusiasm. Where did you come from?

_“Alistair?”_

It was just a call. Just a voice; nothing particularly unordinary, yet Willow felt a pang in her chest. An uncomfortable pressure. She looked to the door of the reception area, the door Nickolai had left ajar. The sunlight cascading in was suddenly obstructed by the figure of a person.  
Time seemed to slow.  
Willow had looked upon the armor of the Holy Church hundreds of thousands of times by now, it wasn’t unusual for the soldiers or high ranking officers to find their way to her clinic but this… this was _different_ somehow. 

“Alistair, where have you gone?”

This time, Willow’s blood turned cold, and her breath caught in the back of her throat. It was... the General. Conscripted by Governor Cummings in the early stages of the war. Willow had looked upon her face a hundred times in the newspapers, read her name on the vivid propaganda posters that plastered the city a million times over…

General Edith Umbra.

She had felt a vague sense of familiarity each and every time, but hadn’t thought it unusual. After all, doesn’t every soul ache to see parts of themselves reflected in the faces of their heroes? Yet, seeing her here… in person. Her body reacted in a way that betrayed her mind, rogue tears formed in the corners of Willow’s eyes. _Why?_

The woman that stood before the Good Doctor was a stranger. Hardened by war, she had a severe look about her. Standing tall in her pristine officer’s uniform, the insignia of the Holy Church shining as a badge on her chest. Her presence commanded respect, an intimidating aura radiated from her body yet… intimidation wasn’t the emotion that consumed Willow’s heart as she laid eyes on her.

“Alis-” Umbra’s final call fell silent upon seeing the young woman before her. _Willow._

It was in that moment a surge of power cascaded through the air between them, a familiar energy connecting and harmonizing. A force unseen, but both of the women could feel it, electrifying their skin, sinking deeper and _deeper._

It was then, touched by Umbra’s Magickal aura once more, that Willow remembered. _Everything._

They stood in an uncomfortable silence, Willow’s expression twisting to one of scorn and rage.  
“ _You._ ” The word left Willow’s lips like a curse, spat out like a bad taste in her mouth.  
“ _How could you?_ ”

“Willow…”

“General Umbra! I am big fan!” Nickolai’s voice bellowed through the air as he dutifully returned to the destroyed waiting room to clean his mess, but his benevolence was unwelcome. It took him a moment to recognize the tension in the air; but as soon as he did, he retreated with his hands up, “I uh… I come back later, yeah?”

He closed the dark wooden door leading to the reception area as he went, leaving the two women in private. Willow found herself in a whirlwind of feeling, she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry; to slap Umbra hard, with all of the strength her body could muster; and to kiss her even harder. These emotions boiled inside of her threatening to burst at the seams.

“ _Why?_ ” Willow’s eyes blurred with generous pools of tears, the only word she could bring herself to speak as she began to shake. Memories flooded her mind, sensations and feelings overwhelming her connecting every missing piece of her fragmented past. “ _Why!?_ ”

Umbra stood in quiet discomfort. Her silence was thoughtful, her expression painted with a hue of sorrow. This was clearly a confrontation neither was prepared for.

“Willow, I am _truly_ sorry.”

Willow wasn’t satisfied with that small, fragile confession. In fact, she was certain there wasn’t anything the General could say that would easily grant forgiveness for the hole she had carved into the heart of her former apprentice; for the shadow of loneliness Umbra had summoned upon Willow, a relentless unwelcome guest that followed her to bed every night for the past five years. 

“Goddamn it, Umbra. I _loved_ you.” Willow began to tremble as a powerful riptide of anger and sadness washed over her. “I would have followed you through _hell_.”

“Willow, I know. That is precisely why I... had to do it.” Umbra’s eyes burned into Willow, untouched by the hands of time, those pristine pools of emerald captivated her just as they always did.

“What are you talking about?” Willow scoffed at her, “You made me forget you. You made me forget _everything_.”

“Willow…” Umbra shook her head, looking around at the disheveled waiting room. “This isn’t the right place; the right time.”

“Oh? And when _would_ be the right time?” Willow scoffed at her, “Had Alistair not brought you here, what then? Would you have come at all? How long would you have made me wait? Decades? _Centuries_?”

“Willow…” Umbra pleaded stepping closer towards her former apprentice, who moved away in response. “Please… Let me explain.”

“I don’t even know if I want to hear what you have to say. I trusted you, and you violated that trust…” Willow’s arms wrapped around her shaking frame to console herself, “I spent all my life believing the horror stories about you weren’t true... I’m not so sure of that any more.”

Umbra’s breath seized, the words carved into her, wounding her far worse than any injury she had sustained in battle. Willow’s teeth sunk into her own tongue the moment the words fell from her lips. An uncomfortable, harrowing silence flooded the room. 

“Willow...” Umbra’s voice was hushed; fragile. Falling from her lips like broken glass. “That day the Governor came… those papers… it wasn’t a petition.”

“ _What…?_ " Willow could visualize that fateful day in her head with vivid detail. The disgruntled Governor, the anger of her Mistress, the magick that reduced the parchment to cinders...

“What do you know about the Thicket, Willow. What do you _really_ know?”

“I… ” Willow collected herself, trying to find the proper words. Of all her years of study, what did she really know of the Thicket outside of the monsters and The Rot? All her life the Thicket had been a constant. It always loomed, a misunderstood threat that stoked the flames of hatred the people of Stoneport felt for Magick. It had always been there… hadn’t it?

“Centuries ago, the world we know was very, _very_ different. Magick thrived, those who could wield it lived in harmony with the humans. We flourished together, we lived in peace.”

“I know all of this, Umbra.” Willow’s eyes narrowed with impatience. She was well-read in the history of Magick, the distant era of peace and the tragedy that followed. The advancements of men and their weaponized technology; the centuries long war wrought down upon the world in Humanity’s attempt to level the evolutionary playing field. The science that triumphed over Magick in horrendous bloodshed, forcing its users into their current state of oppression and secrecy. 

“But the Mages of old didn’t go as quietly as history would have you believe, Willow. My great grandmother was one such mage. Her understanding over the ancient dark arts, her… _power_ over unspeakable destructive Magick set her apart from any Sorceress before her. She was not as pacifistic as her Magickal compatriots. She hated humans.” Umbra paused as her eyes cast to the ground. She exhaled slowly, hands coming together before her. “She wanted to destroy them, entirely, to allow Magick to consume the world once more.”

“Did she… did she create the Thicket? Is that why… Stoneport wanted you gone?” 

“No, it’s… not that simple.” Umbra looked to Willow with pleading eyes. “I lied to you, that day. Those papers… they weren’t a petition. There was _never_ a petition. Stoneport wasn’t asking me to leave; they were calling me to action.”

“Umbra… I don’t understand…”

“My great grandmother didn’t create the Thicket, she _is_ the Thicket. She sleeps, lying dormant. In the very center of that wretched place. She covets the Magick from the world around her, absorbs it; until she has enough to reawaken.” 

“What were those papers, then?”

“A treaty of sorts; created by my Great Grandfather in the wake of his wife’s corruption. Should she collect enough power to reawaken and threaten the land; The Umbras would be humanity’s first line of defense. Fighting fire with fire, dark magick against dark magick.” 

“If that is the truth, why hide it?” Tears threatened Willow’s eyes once more, shaking her head in disbelief. “What reason did you have to keep this from me?”

“Willow…” Umbra turned away, her silhouette encased in the golden sunlight that washed over the room. Hauntingly beautiful, ethereal as ever. “In the time I have walked this earth; the Thicket has taken _everything_ from me. My Grandfather, my parents, my brothers and sisters… Each time the Thicket came alive, another one of my own sent to temporarily pacify her. Like lambs to the slaughter. It is my turn now...” She turned her head to face Willow, the emeralds of her eyes twinkling with the formation of sharp, wet tears.

“I couldn’t let it claim that which I loved the most...” Her delicate words hung in the air. “... _You._ ”

Willow was silent for a moment, overwhelmed by the revelation and all of the complexities of emotion that came with it. It couldn’t have been true… could it? Willow had never come to love anyone as madly, as devoutly as she loved Umbra; and her former Mistress was _right_. Willow would have abandoned everything to stay by her side. What would have become of Stoneport then? Without her efforts, without her clinic? What would have become of her? Chasing recklessly after her lover into a battle she wasn’t prepared for. Without her Magickal potential realized, would she have perished on the front lines like countless other soldiers?

“That shouldn’t have been your choice to make.” Willow snapped, “You should have let me decide. You should have been honest with me!” She steeled herself, ready to tear down any rebuttal, destroy any argument Umbra would fling back at her… but it never came.

“You’re right.” The General whispered, “And not a day has passed in these five years that I haven’t thought of you… Not a single day that I haven’t wished I had done things differently.”

They stood in agonizing silence, two worn, broken women. Lovers. Soldiers. Strangers. 

“I do not deserve your forgiveness, Willow.” Umbra turned from her former apprentice, Alistair slowly padding his way to her side as she did. “But I hope, with time… You see that I have truly always loved you.”

“ _Wait…_ Umbra…” Willow called to the General, stopping her in her tracks. “I need time… Please, give me just a little time.” 

Umbra didn’t say anything, but responded with a solemn, respectful nod. She left, dissolving into the golden sunlight beyond as she did. Leaving Willow in the wreckage of the waiting room, and that of her fragmented emotions.

* * *

Although the sun shined brightly upon Stoneport itself that fine summer day, the sky surrounding the woodlands beyond, tainted by the malevolent energies of the Thicket were thick with twisting, vengeful storm clouds. Despite the frigid, howling wind and the gnarled trees that creaked and moaned in its torrent, the battlefield was eerily silent. 

General Umbra stood bravely before the mouth of the deranged forest, unphased and unflinching. She looked with compassion upon the soldiers that stood beside her, fearful, exhausted. Worn men and women, weary from this endless battle. They had fought valiantly beside her for all of these years, weakening the outer layers of the Thicket, exposing a path to its core. This wasn’t meant to be their fight.

Umbra stepped forward but raised her hand to keep her soldiers in place. “Fall back.” 

The Holy Knights around her looked to their leader with confusion and disbelief. Entirely unaware of what waited for them beyond this grim threshold. No man-made weapon, no force of science would stand up against the ancient evil that hungrily awaited their fruitless assault.

“ _Fall back._ Your weapons won’t help you here.” She warned, her tone harsh. “Only Magick will do.” 

“General…” Her second in command, a grizzled and experienced veteran, spoke with uncertainty, “You… you’re going to go in... _alone_?” 

Silence. Umbra’s eyes fixed on the Thicket before her, she offered no consolation, no rallying speech to embolden and empower. She simply exhaled, taking a single step forward. She was ready. To give her life, to seal the evil away once more, to join the family before her.

“ _No._ ” 

A voice called out from behind them, a figure, triumphantly splitting the small sea of troops in two. Another Sorceress stood before the knights, powerful energy emanating from her body.

“She won’t be going in alone.” Willow. But not just Willow. A ragtag team of the mages that studied beneath her for the last five years also stood beside her. Proud, ready to test their mettle and end this cycle. To win freedom back to Stoneport and all of the Mages forced to live in secrecy.

“Willow…” Umbra sighed, gazing into the resolute hazel eyes of her lover. At once she was met with a quick, stinging slap to the face, and then a deep, passionate kiss. When they seperated, Willow offered her a teary smile, eyes sparkling with the same adoration they held all those years ago.

“I suppose I deserved that.” Umbra smirked, elated to see her former apprentice once more.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to get that out of my system…” She whispered before planting a quick kiss on Umbra’s cheek to ease the spot she struck. Willow then turned to face her group of followers.

“As long as the Thicket stands, Stoneport isn’t safe, the world isn’t safe.” Willow explained, grabbing the General’s hands and squeezing them in her own. “This isn’t fight isn’t yours alone.”

Umbra looked to the band of misfits, each mage wildly different from the next, a melting pot of different Magickal sources. Eager, confident, ready to fight. She smiled at them, for the first time, in a long time, she felt hope.

“So we’ll end this together. Once and for all.” Willow declared, remaining at Umbra’s side she turned to face the sinister force that stood before them. She firmly held Umbra’s hand in her own. “I won’t let the Thicket take _you_ from me. Not when I only just got you back.” 

And so the two Sorceresses were reunited after all of these years. An unstoppable force eager to sever the Thicket’s grasp on the human world not temporarily, but for good. Hand in hand, they fearlessly moved onward, unflinching and uncompromising, to secure a future together; into the Thicket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for giggles, here's a song that's been making me think a lot about Umbra and Willow.
> 
> "Old Wounds" - Pvris  
> https://youtu.be/VARhOKmhX0U
> 
> Obviously, their story is much longer, more complex and has so much more content in my head, but I wanted to keep this project short and condensed it to 4 chapters. Will I write more about these two in the future?
> 
> Absolutely. But for now? I'm happy to consider these tiny 4 chapters their story.


End file.
